B7: Epilogue (Patreon)

Vestiges of the war against the Cult of Devouring Darkness littered the streets as the Titan Squad rushed toward the Guardian District. As they advanced players continually joined them from the side streets and alleyways they passed, quickly forming a wave that swept through the Shaper District. At the front of the group, Velin strode forward, a thick green glow covering her enlarged body, forming a giant that was nearly ten feet tall.

Armor made from leaves and twisting rose stems made her look like a warrior queen that had just walked out of the wild and with each step the crawling maze of roots that accompanied her formed bright blossoms that sprouted from the cobblestones like they were papier-mâché. Glancing up at the waving vines that accompanied her, Seven Twisted Leaves shared a worried look with Delmore, receiving an unconcerned shrug.

“Better that she is on our side, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” the Fey Druid muttered. “But that doesn’t look like the Velin we knew before.”

Ahead of the group a loose collection of black armored guards had closed off the path from the Shaper District into the Guardian District and were now gathering to face the approaching players. From the back of the group a man in a white uniform stepped forward, his face holding a sneer as he shouted toward Velin.

“On the orders of the Golden Guard, all districts in the city have been closed and movement between them is prohibited. No one is allowed to pass.”

“MOVE.”

Velin’s voice was level but the sheer volume of it shook the surrounding windows and caused a tremble to run though the black armored guards facing them.

“OR I WILL MOVE YOU.”

“How dare you! Do you really...ugh!”

Before he could complete his threat the white uniformed officer felt something tighten around his ankle and was abruptly jerked off his feet and dragged sideways by a whipping vine. Velin had not stopped for a moment and before the black armored guards had reacted to the attack they found themselves facing a ten foot tall green giant wielding a long spear. Focusing on crushing a path through the loose formation, Velin waved her spear to the right and left, sending the black armored soldiers flying.

“CONTINUE TO ADVANCE!”

Not bothering to check how the black armored guards were fairing, Velin pushed past them, the quickly swelling wave of players rushing to follow her.

“Haha, like I said, at least she is on our side,” Delmore said, his whiskers twitching as he poked his strange dagger toward one of the fallen guards, binding him in place.

“Leaves,” Velin’s voice called out in the team channel, interrupting the Fey Druid and causing Seven Twisted Leaves to rush to her side.

“Yes?”

“I need you to take over. My transformation is ending soon and I need to coordinate our retreat. We absolutely must secure a path for leaving the city as soon as possible. Take this group out through the gate between the Guardian District and the Shaper District and get control of it. Do not take no for an answer. I’m going to split off with a group to meet up with the Duke’s men at his mansion. As the rest of the forces gather, we’ll need to ensure a clear path so get ready to face off against the Golden Guard.”

Even as she spoke, Velin’s giant green body grew faint and began to fade away. Scattering like petals in the wind, her green armor peeled away, leaving her standing in the street amidst the shaking petals. A deep exhaustion was evident in her eyes but it was overshadowed by powerful conviction that kept her back straight.

“You got it,” Leaves said, snapping a salute. “Do we know what is going on with the royal family?”

“No. At this point information is spotty. But what we do know is that the second prince is suddenly running around the city again, which is suspicious.”

“What?! I thought he was…”

“Yes, he should be dead, but instead he is currently leading the Golden Guard to attack the first prince. With the emperor gone, the succession of the throne is now the most pressing question so we need to stabilize our position in the city as fast as possible to avoid getting caught up in the fight. Our goal is to preserve as many people as we can while giving ourselves a path to retreat. We have teams that are already escorting the nobles allied with us to the guardian district and I will bring them to meet up with you as soon as I can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gathering Heidi, SoulSeeker, Alabaster, EphemeralWhisper, and Blossom, Velin led them toward the Ironhold Duke’s mansion while Leaves directed the other players toward the gate. Unlike the Shaper District, the Guardian District was much less chaotic. While there was occasional evidence of attacks, there was far less damage to the buildings and the streets were not as deserted as the Shaper District had been. Soldiers patrolled the streets but did not bother the team as they rushed toward the mansion.

When they finally arrived at the Duke’s home, they found his guards had mobilized outside of the mansion and were watching their surroundings carefully. A faint smell of blood lingered in the air and a few of the Duke’s servants were hard at work scrubbing the steps of the mansion. Spotting the leader of the Duke’s guards, Velin hurried over.

“Greetings, Lady Velin,” Jem saluted, his eyes drifting over the group. “Is Earl Greymane still tied up with the ruins?”

“No, there has been an accident of sorts,” Velin replied, shaking her head. “He is fine, but he has been transported elsewhere. We are working under his orders to make sure that his allies are secure while he works to return. I hope you don’t mind, but I have asked our soldiers to escort all of our allies to this location. We are also securing a gate to exit the city in the event that we have to retreat.”

“A wise strategy,” said a calm voice as Hans stepped out from behind Jem.

Patting Jem on the arm, Hans bowed to Velin and gestured toward the house, inviting her inside. Once they were in the hall, the butler directed the staff to take the player’s hats and helmets and opened a set of double doors into the library. Offering Velin a seat, Hans retrieved a piece of paper from the Duke’s desk and brought it over for Velin to examine. Scanning over it, Velin frowned and looked up.

“What is this?”

“This is the instructions that the Duke told me to give to the Earl if the city were to ever fall,” Hans said calmly. “While the walls still stand, the city is about to erupt into a fight for the throne so it seems to me to be close enough. Unfortunately, as the Earl is, ehem, indisposed, these instructions fall to you.”

*ding*

Quest: The Mad Prince - [2/?]

In an apparent miracle, Prince Marius Wirth Eisenstadt has risen from the dead and gathered the Golden Guard to confront his brother, Gustav Jomepheus Eisenstadt, Crown Prince of the empire. With the emperor gone and the throne open, the empire is in desperate need of a stabilizing leader.

As the forces in the fallen capital city begin to choose sides, so must you. Complete quests to support one side or the other in the battle for the throne. As the quest progresses, you will need to have completed a minimum number of quests in order to avoid being seen as an enemy by each faction.

The Duke of Ironhold has given you instructions to try and preserve the fight between the princes for as long as possible while protecting the citizens of the capital city. The longer the struggle can be drawn out and the less the citizens suffer, the greater the reward for this stage of the quest will be.

Quests completed for the First Prince: 0
Quests completed for the Second Prince: 0

Reward: Various

Frowning, Velin opened up the quest that they had been working on when they brought down the third prince, noting the changes.

Quest: The Mad Cultists - [1/?] Completed

Driven by unknown desires, the Cult of the Devouring Darkness has spread to the capital city of Northern Angoril. Though their influence has been quietly growing in the shadows, the time has come for their emergence.

Defeat the cultists and discover what nefarious purpose they pursue.

You have discovered a strange letter on the body of the Apostle of Darkness, Flitzbone Gerpot.

You have been given a letter for the Council of Popes by the Archbishop of the Labor District. Ensure it gets to the Church of St. Mateus in the Gold District as soon as possible.

You have discovered a sinister plot brewing under the surface of the city. Deep in the earth the cult races toward the central hall of the Ruins of the Soaring Palace. Stop them before they can bring their plot to fruition.

Having slain his helpers, you find yourself faced with the Dark Lord of the Cult of Devouring Darkness, Prince Viktor Eisenstadt. You have managed to stop him from completing his plan to doom the entire continent to fall into darkness but in doing so you have forced the Emperor to unleash his full power, forcing him to ascend.

Cultists: 1,000/1,000
Apostles: 5/5
Dark Lord: 1/1

Reward: Catastrophe will be averted, Various

This is the first step in a chain quest. All rewards will be locked until the entire chain has been completed or a single step has failed. Rewards will be awarded based on the number of quests in the chain that are completed.

Closing both quests she sighed and rubbed her head.

“If it were up to me we would just retreat, but we will follow the Duke’s orders.”

“I’m happy to hear that, Lady Velin. The forces of the Ironhold Duchy are yours to command,” Hans said, rising and giving Velin a small bow.

“Don’t be so happy yet,” Velin said, her frown deepening. “At least tell me that the Duke is on his way back. Preferably with his entire army?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Hans shook his head.

“Right, that would make the other Duke’s too nervous. Ah, no wonder they all fled the city. If they were here the Dukes would have to suspect each other of wanting the throne. Hah.”

Falling silent, Velin got out her notebook and flipped it open. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself and then made a call.

“Corvo, we need to talk.”

***

Merciless golden rays beat down on the rough sand of the Great Desert, cooking it to a scorching temperature. In the midst of the hazy heat waves a tiny dot wavered, slowly growing larger as a stumbling figure staggered across the shifting ground. As his plodding foot landed, a hidden stone rolled treacherously, sending a sharp pain through his ankle as he was sent tumbling to the ground. Spitting the harsh sand from his mouth, Ouroboros lifted his head, a hollow laugh echoing from his cracked lips as he stared up at the cloudless sky.

So bright that it dyed the sky white, the sun gave him no relief and Ouroboros pulled himself up from the ground, once again beginning his trudging journey into the vast desert. He had only taken a few steps when the voices started again.

Tell me, mortal, why do you resist me so? Why not simply accept the power that I offer? I can bring you to the pinnacle of your dreams and even beyond.

The voice that hovered at the edge of his ear was as sweet as a long cool drink of well water after a day of hard labor but Ouroboros ignored it, instead focusing on taking his next step. He could feel the sand crunching under his feet, setting his teeth on edge but he paid it no more attention than he did to the chattering voice.

So curious. You persist in your folly, always repeating the same actions no matter how many times you fail. You have fled out here in a vain attempt to escape yourself yet that only increases your suffering. Tell me, is the struggle truly worth it?

“Worth it? Hahaha,” Ouroboros had to stop to rest as the shifting sands stole the energy from his legs. He wanted to spit but knew that the last of the moisture in his mouth had evaporated hours ago. “No, no, it's not worth it. Yet here I am. Trudging through this blasted desert.”

Opening his arms wide as he spoke, he stared back at the hazy figure who tagged along with him, his cracked lips tearing as he smiled.

“Tell me, does this look like a game to you? Would anyone in their right mind subject themselves to this? Haha, no, this is life and death. My life, and my death.”

Life, death? Yet even if you die, you will find yourself back at the beginning, so what is the point?

“Ugh. I can’t deny that, but I can kill this before I go,” Ouroboros tapped his head weakly as he resumed his stumbling walk.

You speak in more riddles than I do, mortal.

“Do I? Then maybe you’ll shut up.”

When the only response he heard was his labored breath and the sound of his boots scraping against the sand, Ouroboros thought that he had actually managed to get rid of the voice, but a moment later the figure drew closer and spoke again.

Things were going so well with the Orcs too. You had climbed all the way to Warmaster, controlling a whole legion. What happened to you?

“Scheming. I do it to others, they do it to me. The Red Scourge felt threatened and was worried that I would stab him in the back. So he called me back and tossed me out here.”

And would you have stabbed him in the back?

The question took Ouroboros aback, causing him to stop. He was standing near the top of a dune and the desert stretched out in all directions, carrying nothing but the bright promise of death. A trembling laugh broke from his lips as he considered the answer to the question.

“I guess I would have. I was already thinking about how to take control of the legions, wasn’t I? Hah, maybe he could sense it.”

And you would have succeeded if you had more power, wouldn’t you? But ultimately, you brought all of this on yourself because of your weakness, didn’t you? Just like when you failed against Thorn.

“Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” Ouroboros, too tired to continue, sank to the ground and rolled onto his back, laying with his arms outstretched as he stared up into the blinding sky. “But if he can succeed in this world, why can’t I? You know, at first, I despised him. I thought he was big and stupid, but that was really just a cover for how envious I was of his strength. Then, I thought that he was foolish, foolish for trusting strangers he had never met before. But wasn’t that just because I desperately wished that I could do the same? And finally I hated him because of the way that other people looked at him. How I wished they would look at me like that. Look at me. Haha. Scheming, always scheming. And when it didn’t work, I doubled down. And then I tripled down. Hah. Look at me. This is the result of my efforts to seize the world for myself.”

But wasn’t your failure due to your weakness? If you had the power that I offered you you would never have fallen to that giant fool.

“See, that’s the problem,” Ouroboros chuckled, speaking in gasps as his mind drifted in and out of focus as he felt the last dregs of his endurance leaving him. “Power. I had power. More than was healthy. There is a path that seems right to man, isn’t that the saying? And what did that path get me? Death. Death from an oversized mace. Death from dehydration in the middle of the desert after being abandoned yet again. But if there is one thing that I am starting to understand, it's that in this world, you get what you give.”

A single word and your suffering can end. A single word and you can see the giant pressed beneath your feet, forced to bow to your might and majesty.

The picture that the figure painted rose from the shifting heat, forming into a clear mirage that hovered over Ouroboros’ fallen picture. He could see himself, clad in shining silver armor covered in swirling serpent motifs, standing atop a tall dias, a massive throne waiting behind him. At the bottom of the dias Thorn appeared, a deep fear in his eyes as he stared up at Ouroboros. One by one, every player that Ouroboros had ever encountered appeared, taking a knee behind Thorn’s figure. After the players came the natives, from the lowly shopkeepers to the figure of a mighty red Ogre. Staring at the scene, Ouroboros finally felt something in his chest stir.

Mustering his strength, Ouroboros’ eyes glowed with the last vestiges of his energy as he lifted his head. Sensing that the dying player’s last words were coming, the shifting figure stepped closer. Running his parched tongue over his broken lips, Ouroboros spoke in a dry rattle.

“Heh, actually, he’s a Titan.”

Even Ouroboros did not know where the moisture came from, but still, he spat at the mirage that hovered in front of him. His last energy spent, he fell back on the sand. The bright sky began to fade away as he muttered under his breath.

“That looks so lonely.”

As the darkness of death wrapped itself around Ouroboros he failed to see the dark figure that had been following him twist, a silent scream shaking its elusive body as the merciless rays of the sun burned through it. Desperate, it lunged toward him but a gentle silver glow pulsed from his body, stopping the figure before it could hide in his shadow. Within moments it was gone, obliterated by the sunlight.

*ding*

Quest: The Path of the Broken - Completed

You have faced your demons and emerged changed. In your long journey through the desert you have faced down your appetites and desires one by one, letting the Great Burning Sun burn them away one by one, leaving only clarity and understanding.

Reward:
Title: Reforged Soul